by Mel Odom
“You’re not comfortable.”
“No, I’m not.” She sounded mad at me, but I wasn’t entirely certain why. “Nobody lives like a hermit, Drake. I know other bioroids. They have regular homes. Furniture. Food they can prepare in case someone with a heartbeat and an appetite does drop by.”
“Those things are troublesome.” I remembered how difficult it had been to put my belongings into a storage area. Shelly had purchased a recliner for me that was built to handle my extra weight. I had mostly sat in it when she was there, to let her know her gift was appreciated. But sometimes I had sat in it just to think about her, after I had lost her.
Putting the recliner into storage had been the hardest task of all.
* * *
Less than an hour later, the Thai takeout arrived. Rachel retreated to the kitchen, spread her meal out on the countertop, then sat up beside her food and ate. She didn’t look comfortable, but she didn’t let any of the meal go to waste.
A few minutes after that, a delivery service arrived with a comfortable-looking couch and placed it in the living room. The deliverymen also gave her a bag that contained sheets, blankets, and a pillow.
Rachel took the bed clothes out of the bags and glared at me. “Don’t just stand there. Help me make my bed.”
I helped, feeling a little uncomfortable with the task. “I’m sorry I did not have a bed to provide you.”
“Don’t worry. I charged this to your account.” Rachel kicked off her boots, tucked her various weapons around her and under the cushions, and curled up on the couch. Within seconds, her regular breathing told me she was asleep.
For a moment, I watched her and thought about the times that Shelly had ended up spending the night or the day at my apartment in New Angeles, trying desperately to catch up on sleep she’d missed. I’d watched over her, keeping her safe while vicious people sometimes looked for us.
I missed that in a way I had never known I would.
Turning from Rachel, I walked back to the kitchen. I shut the lights off behind me and let her sleep in the dark.
* * *
I stood in the kitchen and listened to the rumble of the tube trains as they passed through the underground, and the atmosphere equipment breathing for Heinlein. Citizens who lived in the megapolis no longer paid attention to those things. They’d just become part of the background noise that was their world.
I ignored the sounds and brought up the footage I had of the chimera tattoo. The images came from NAPD and military files as well as the flashbacks I had experienced.
There wasn’t much information. The mercenary unit had been almost invisible in the Colony Wars.
And yet, every big investigation I had been involved with, the chimera tattoo had played a part.
“Stop pushing so hard.” Shelly stood in the kitchen with me. “Give it time. Sometimes these things just have to develop. You know that.”
I did, but it was uncomfortable not to pursue some understanding of the tattoo and the unit.
I trolled through the various social boards concerning military campaigns that I had posted the tattoo on. With so many soldiers cycling in and out of Mars at the time, social Nets had been set up as a clearing house for them to contact each other. Several of them had been established to deal with soldiers suffering from PTSD and other psychological problems. I had always felt intrusive cruising through those.
I had found out a lot of information about the Colony Wars, been exposed to a lot of different opinions—private as well as corporate—as to why the civil unrest was taking place, but I had found out nothing about the chimera mercenaries.
Six days ago, a message had been left for me under the pseudonym I’d been using online.
STOP LOOKING.
There was no signature. I’d tried following the posting back but had stumbled into a foolie virus that had nearly replicated itself inside my programming before I’d been able to purge it. If the foolie had gotten in, everything that was me would have been erased.
I had continued to post but hadn’t received any more responses. All the military agencies I had contacted had disavowed knowledge of the mercenaries and of the tattoo. It was like it hadn’t existed except in my cases and in Mara and Simon Blake’s lives.
I put the file away and concentrated on the information we had on Gordon Holder’s murder, as well as the files on the black market for weapons. Those files were thick with material.
* * *
Rachel slept for five hours, then woke and got up like she’d planned to sleep exactly that long. “You got a working shower?”
I pointed the way.
She started to go, then caught herself and looked back at me. “Towels?”
“No.”
She grimaced. “And I’m betting you don’t have toilet paper either.”
“I don’t use it.”
“If I’m going to continue babysitting you, you’re going to need to do some shopping. Is there someplace where you can get a few things?”
“There’s a bodega on the corner.”
“Fine. Go there.” She rattled off a quick list of things she wanted, then disappeared into the bathroom. “Try not to get yourself whacked while you’re out there.”
I told her I would, and went.
* * *
I was standing in line at the bodega with a couple of bath towels, toilet paper, a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant (feminine), and a couple other things when the news about Gordon Holder broke over the newsrags and the vid hanging over the counter.
The newsrags flashed the headline: SKORPIOS DEFENSE SYSTEMS CEO GORDON HOLDER IMPLICATED IN ILLEGAL MUNITIONS PLANT.
On the vid, Lily Lockwell stood in front of the Heinlein Courthouse with NBN BREAKING NEWS banners running along the top and bottom of the projection.
“NBN has just learned that Gordon Holder, CEO of Skorpios Defense Systems, has been named as the person behind an illegal munitions plant discovered yesterday by NAPD Detective Drake 3GI2RC, one of two bioroids currently employed in that capacity by the NAPD.”
My face suddenly appeared on the screen, but I noticed it was my old face, and not the one that I now wore. Why my old face would come up instead of my new one, since Miranda had updated my files, I didn’t know. The changes were subtle, but thankfully they were enough to keep me unrecognizable for the most part.
“According to a spokesperson from the district attorney’s office, a representative from Skorpios Defense Systems has come forward to help out with the NAPD investigation into Holder’s death. Conjecture has begun to circulate that Holder was killed in a weapons buy gone wrong, not an act of terrorism as first reported. Stay tuned to NBN. We’ll keep you informed about your day.”
I set the items on the counter and started downloading the latest newsrag feed into my PAD. My comm buzzed for my attention. The ID showed it was from Captain Karanjai’s personal line.
I answered.
“You’ve seen the report on NBN?” The captain didn’t sound happy.
“Yes.”
“I think Skorpios is trying to throw their dead CEO under the bus.”
The expression was familiar to me. The cashier bot pinged my e-ID for my credaccount once it had finished ringing my things up.
“How soon can you be in here, Drake?”
“Within minutes.”
“Get in here. I want boots on the ground as this investigation starts breaking open. We’re not going to get the truth out of these people, but I want to know when the lying starts.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
I called Royo on my walk back to my apartment. He sounded groggy but agreed to get up and get moving, too. I also tried calling Rachel, but she didn’t answer.
When I reached my apartment, I let myself in and found her still in the bathroom. I stood at the door and wasn’t sure how to proceed. I’d never had a woman in my bathroom before that I needed to speak with. Shelly and I had always shelved our conversations at those times
.
“Drake?” Her voice came from inside.
“Yes.”
“You should knock.”
I knocked.
“No, when you get back and you need someone’s attention, you should knock.”
“That doesn’t seem logical. This is my apartment.”
“To be polite.”
“All right.”
“Did you get the things I asked for?”
“Yes.”
“Then leave them by the door and go stand in the living room. I’ll be there in a moment.”
I did as she requested and quickly grew uncomfortable standing in the living room as the minutes ticked by. I’d told Captain Karanjai I would be there in short order. I felt very conflicted.
Presently, Rachel appeared looking much as she had before. This time, though, I noticed that she smelled of fragrances and appeared to be in a better mood.
I grew increasingly uncomfortable as she paused to get her extra weapons and started hiding them on her person. I walked to the door. “There has been a development.”
“Yeah, I know. Skorpios has decided to name Gordon Holder as the bad guy.” Rachel held up her PAD. “You’re not the only one who tries to stay up to date, Sherlock.”
“Then you also know Captain Karanjai has been expecting me to report to HQ for the last twenty-three minutes.”
She joined me at the door. “I didn’t know that, but I’m not surprised. That’s where we’re heading?”
“Yes.” I held the door open for her. “I also noticed the two men you had following me to the bodega.”
Rachel smiled. “You mean you noticed only two of them.”
“There were only two.” I was certain of that.
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
“There were only two. Even so, if you were going to have people watching me, why didn’t you stay at your home?”
“Because I’ve seen how fast things seem to develop around you. This isn’t something I wanted to pass off to the support crew I’ve got watching you and Royo. I want to stay in step with you, not try to play catch up. When you start doing that, that’s when you’re the most at risk.”
“Most of police work is trying to get up to speed on a situation.”
“I know. That’s just one of the reasons I didn’t stick with the police when I had the opportunity. If I’m going to keep you and your partner safe, I’ve got to get you out in front of the curve. Otherwise we’re going to remain vulnerable. Me? I don’t want to die.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Captain Karanjai waited for us in his office. When we reached the door, he waved us inside. A vid played on the holo above his desk. I recognized District Attorney Montague Lambert in the holo, but I didn’t know the others.
Lambert was chiseled perfection, the work done by G-modifications, blond haired and blue eyed, and looked elegant in his tailored suit. Even when he was sitting still, he looked like a man of action.
The second man had a long face, a nose that was a little too large, and a narrow mouth that made him look like he’d just bitten into something that hadn’t agreed with him.
The third person was a woman with demure looks who was in her middle years. Her brown hair was pulled back and she wore little makeup. She wrapped her hands around the chair she sat in, and occasionally her right forefinger would make hesitant taps, then she would catch herself and stop. Usually within two minutes she would begin again.
Karanjai pointed at the holo. “You know DA Lambert.”
We all nodded. I had met him briefly, and I supposed Royo had too. Rachel frowned but nodded.
“The man is Arlen Graves, the second-in-command at Skorpios. The woman is Rebecca Thurlow, the chief corp accountant.”
“—after Ms. Thurlow began examining Mr. Holder’s accounts, these incongruities manifested.” Graves waved his hands as if that statement of fact should be apparent to everyone.
Lambert nodded. “You’re talking about the secret accounts you and your team discovered?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Lambert paused dramatically. He was one for dramatic pauses. I had seen them at work in different court cases he had prosecuted. He was always aware of the camera. “They’ve always been there, but you people had never before found them.”
Graves spread his hands helplessly and smiled. “There was no reason to go poking about in his business until his death. The corporation was always in the black. The reports from his office always came in on time.” He showed that he was quite capable of pauses on his own. “And Mr. Holder held a very esteemed position.”
“You mean he was the son-in-law to Argus, Inc.’s chairman of the board.”
Graves nodded. “I mean that very thing.” He crossed his legs. “You have to understand, Mr. Lambert, Magnus Swan is not a man to be trifled with.”
Magnus Swan was the chairman of the board for Argus, Inc. He had started the company fifty years ago, then pushed it to the forefront through innovative engineering leaps. Swan was a gifted engineer himself, and he’d surrounded himself with people who could do the things he could not. If the capacity to do something went beyond his talents, they weren’t beyond his capabilities. He went out and hired the best of the best until all of his dreams were made real.
Thirteen years ago, Swan had split off the weapons design department that had become Skorpios Defense Systems as a wedding gift to his daughter and her new husband. The weapons technology sector, according to Swan, was creatively limited. Only so much could be done with weapons.
Swan preferred to design integrated systems for everyday use, comfort tech intended for entertainment purposes or to catch the next “wave” in household remodeling. In many instances, Swan created those waves himself. His corporation had the money to spend on advertising. Lately it had been rumored that Swan was entering the hopper industry, planning to sell top-of-the-line vehicles instead of economical versions. Argus, Inc. stocks had blossomed again at that.
However, Swan was also a very unforgiving man. He had a history of crushing business rivals with hostile takeovers. He was not, as Graves had put it, “a man to be trifled with.”
Lambert leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “How does Mr. Swan feel about this latest turn?”
“He’s not happy, Mr. Lambert. I can assure you of that.”
“You cleared our little chat with him before you came here.”
“Of course.” Graves adjusted the line of his pants. “I would have been remiss in my responsibilities to Mr. Swan if I had not.”
“I thought your responsibilities lay with Mr. Holder.”
“Mr. Holder is dead.”
“What if he hadn’t been dead, Mr. Graves? What if he’d been alive when you’d discovered his impropriety? What would you have done then?”
“I would have reported the matter to Mr. Swan, of course. My position is as a liaison between the two corporations.”
Lambert waited a moment. “If you had reported your findings to Mr. Swan while Mr. Holder was still alive, what do you think Mr. Swan’s reaction would have been?”
Graves paused just long enough for me to know he was about to lie. I watched his pulse speed up at the side of his neck. The change wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to tell. The man was a very practiced liar. “I believe Mr. Swan’s reaction would have been much as it is. Mr. Swan is immensely disappointed in his son-in-law’s choices.”
“‘Choices’?” Rachel snorted. “If Swan had found out Holder had an illegal operation like the warehouse plant going on behind his back, he would have killed Holder himself. That old man didn’t get to be the head of his empire by being weak or afraid to get his hands dirty.”
Karanjai shot a look at Rachel. “Do you think Swan had anything to do with Holder’s death?”
“Do you?”
Karanjai shook his head and looked back at the vid. “No. If Swan had been behind the murder, Holder would have quietly disappeared. No fuss, no mu
ss. Nothing left behind but vacuum.”
I considered that. “Then the question becomes whether or not Magnus Swan was aware of the illegal munitions plant.”
Karanjai nodded. “That’s what I’m wondering.” He pointed at the vid. “To catch you up on events, Graves and Thurlow are insisting that Holder was completely complicit in the weapons factory. They’ve got bank documents, secret accounts, and a trail of credit Holder had been putting away like a squirrel hoarding nuts.”
“How much of it is conclusive?”
“It’s enough for the DA to bring charges. If Holder had lived, he would be in a lot of trouble.” Karanjai rubbed the back of his neck. “But Graves and Swan’s army of attorneys are going to impede our investigation. You can bet on that. They’ll be selling Holder as the villain every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Getting through that tsunami of swill they’ll be pushing is going to be hard.” He turned to us. “Which is why I want you people to work on this from another direction.”
On the vid, Lambert kept questioning Graves, occasionally shifting to speak with Thurlow, who answered in monotone responses and brought up holos of her accounting spreadsheets.
Karanjai blanked the vid. “Somewhere out there, those hijackers are trying to move that cargo they lifted from the tube car explosion. Find that cargo. Find out who those people are and who they were working for. They didn’t just happen along.”
I nodded.
“In the meantime, I’m going to keep hammering this dog and pony show Graves is presenting. We won’t be able to shake it, but it will keep them busy enough that they’ll think that’s the only work we’re doing at the moment.”
I didn’t ask where the captain wanted us to start because I knew he didn’t have an answer for that. If he’d known, he would have told us.
Karanjai softened his voice. “This is going to be dangerous. The less contact you have with this office, the better. So until you have something or you need something you can’t get on your own, don’t talk to me.”
“Yes, sir.” We turned and we went.
Royo was quiet and tense out in the hall as we headed to the elevator.
